


Glad to Just be Me

by littlehollyleaf



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Purgatory, M/M, Post-Purgatory, Romance, Team Free Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-07
Updated: 2012-07-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 15:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9242861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlehollyleaf/pseuds/littlehollyleaf
Summary: Sequel toThis Land From Where We Are.Sam's psyched to have his brother back after almost half a year of separation, but Dean's been acting a little strange since he got out. What's he hiding?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title, once again, from lyrics on the [Free to be... You and Me album,](http://www.metrolyrics.com/free-to-be-you-and-me-soundtrack-lyrics-show.html) since it seemed logical to make it a theme :) Much of this is inspired by [this glorious dream](http://sparrowsarahnade.tumblr.com/post/26581894531/its-so-beautiful-a-im-just-going-to-imagine) chronicled on tumblr. God bless the subconscious.

**Glad to just be me**

 

The lines of the number are printed in bold Sharpie with all the care of a summoning sigil, standing out bright as a neon sign at the top of the cheque the shapely waitress passes to Dean. Sam can see where the ink has bled through on the underside of the paper and he hides a smile behind his last mouthful of shake. After all those long and weary months in limbo, his brother deserves some love and care.

But Sam's grin turns to slack-jawed astonishment when Dean takes the bill with a distracted 'thanks' and folds the top part over to focus on the total, seemingly oblivious to both the phone number _and_ the seductive smile the girl throws his way while she waits for his response. A few more seconds of Dean patting down his jacket for cash without acknowledging her seems answer enough and the girl leaves with a shrug and pout of disappointment. Moments later Dean throws some bills onto the peeling plastic of the tabletop and gets to his feet.

"'Kay, let's go," he mutters, already heading for the door.

Blinking back shock Sam snatches up the discarded receipt and hurries after.

"Whoa, where's the fire?" he jokes, catching up to his brother in the parking lot outside. He stops Dean with a hand to his shoulder and holds up the bill, sliding a thumb behind the top so the part with the number bends forward into Dean's line of sight, exposing the name printed under it and everything. "You really gonna leave poor Suzie to end her shift alone? She was totally hot for you, man."

Dean's been through a lot recently. It had taken days of persuasion, and an opportune salt'n'burn, to convince him to come on this trip out in the first place, and it's hardly a surprise. After weeks with nothing but monsters for company anyone's socialising skills would start to slide. Dean can be forgiven for maybe missing the subtleties (or in this case not-so subtleties) of human interaction.

Only Dean shakes his head at the clarification.

"I'm good, thanks," he answers with half a smile. "But hey, if _you_ want a shot, go right ahead and knock yourself out. I'm sure she'll find some way to get over me."

He turns to move on but Sam reaches out again to hold him back, not ready to let this drop. Not until he knows for sure if this is as casual as Dean's making out, or a symptom of something more.

"Come on, all that time in Purgatory and you're telling me you're not up for some action?" he teases, keeping it light. "I know you'd been out of the game for while before you got sucked down there, but it was, what? Five, six months of _enforced_ celibacy? Surely you'd want to end that just on principle?"

Sam waits for his brother's dry laughter or an eye roll at least. Instead, Dean opens his mouth, closes it, and looks away.

"What?" Sam's smile drops a little as bemusement takes over. "It's not like there was anyone down there you -"

Dean rubs a hand round the back of his neck and Sam freezes. It's an old tell. One he hasn't seen Dean make in years. One of embarrassment and insecurity that world-weariness and tragedy has long since made defunct.

There _was_ someone? Yes - Dean's eyes have taken on a glazed look of reminiscence, a softening at the corner of his lips telling Sam the memory's a fond one.

Had he banged some monster chick or -

"You _didn't?_ " Sam exclaims as the pieces slot into place.

The sheepish look Dean answers with confirms it.

"It just... kinda happened..." Dean shrugs by way of explanation.

\---

The journey back offers little to no illumination on the subject as Dean is vague and unforthcoming in his answers to Sam's attempts at casual questioning. Defeated for the time being, Sam brews coffee in silence when they get back to the cabin, while Dean heads first thing, as always when they've been out, to the nearest bedroom where Cas is still lying unconscious. Where he's been unconscious and unresponsive since his and Dean's return. At least Dean's (over) attentiveness, bordering on the possessive, of the guy makes more sense now.

Does that mean it _wasn't_ a one off thing, though? Are Dean and Cas -?

Fuck it. Sam shakes his head, pulling himself together. What does it even matter? The way the two of them have been making eyes at each other since they met it was probably inevitable. He should be _happy_ for them.

And he _would_ be. If the circumstance of their escape wasn't now threatening to take this newfound potential away from his brother, leaving Dean worse off than if he'd never uncovered it. But no. He can't think like that. He needs to be supportive. Optimistic. He can't leave Dean to sink into despair again like the last time Cas seemed lost to them.

Resolved, Sam pours fresh coffee into a chipped mug and heads to the bedroom with it. It's not exactly Hallmark, but Sam thinks it will serve - a show of acceptance and support Dean will appreciate more than a lengthy heart-to-heart (as much as Sam would prefer that). Better, as well, to try and start a caffeine habit than the alcohol one Dean had developed through his last Castiel-induced trauma.

He's at the door and ready with a careful smile - two parts hopeful, one part realistic understanding - when he hears dry coughing overlaid with his brother's voice making gruff demands.

"Whoa. Whoa. Easy."

Opening the door a crack Sam's delighted to see Cas awake and struggling into a sitting position on the bed. Thank fucking god, it's about time! Cas' thin arms, poking out from the wide expanse of one of Sam's old t-shirts, tremble with the effort so Dean reaches a guiding hand to Cas' far shoulder, easing him back against the headboard.

"Here," Dean continues, using his free hand to grab a glass of water they've been keeping on the bedside cabinet for just such an eventuality and holding it to Cas' lips.

Not wanting to risk Cas' recovery by interrupting at a delicate time, Sam holds back his relief and waits for a less precarious opportunity to join the others.

Still coughing, Cas raises a shaking hand to take the glass himself but Dean refuses to loosen his grip. In the end the two of them tilt the drink back together, Cas' fingers curling weakly over Dean's. After spluttering down a few mouthfuls under Dean's watchful eye Cas gives a brief, almost apologetic, shake of his head and Dean draws the glass away, restoring it to its original position.

"Thank you," Cas gasps, coughing mercifully abated.

"Save it," Dean bites back. "I'm mad as all hell at you."

And yet the slow, hesitant way he relinquishes his hold on the other man to sit in the chair at Cas' side seems at odds with both the words and his tone.

Cas flicks watery eyes up to Dean and, despite the obvious struggle it causes him to focus, maintains the gaze. Sam thinks the shift of his friend's shoulders and the set of his mouth look defiant.

"I told you 'no,'" Dean insists and it's not rocket science working out what he means. "We could have found another way."

"Perhaps," Cas concedes, voice growing stronger with more use. "But how long would that have taken us? Days? Years? Eons?"

The skin across Dean's face grows tight at the challenge, his shoulders tensing.

"Better than you dying," he answers, curtly.

"I knew I wouldn't die."

"Bullshit."

"No," Cas continues, calm in the face of Dean's anger. Sam's impressed - in their own arguments Dean's emotions so often end up bleeding through into him. Or visa versa. "It was uncertain at first, but once I took time to finalise the spell I was sure. I wouldn't die, just..."

He trails off with a painful looking mix of a shrug and a wince. A difficult gesture, but Sam supposes it's easier than searching for words that will only be inaccurate. Because what language could possibly describe the sacrifice Cas made to reunite them all? One that brought not death, no. Just the loss of everything Cas is. Was. Has ever known.

Dean shakes his head, as incapable of understanding as Sam.

"You didn't have to," he mutters, shoulders dropping as he looks down, fight draining out of him into something quieter. Dejected.

"I know," Cas tells him.

"I mean, Sam's been fine. He could have handled himself. He -"

The words stutter away as Cas settles a hand on the one Dean has been scrunching up the bedcovers with at Cas' waist while talking. Dean lets the fabric go and holds still the second Cas' fingertips brush his skin.

"This isn't about Sam," Cas says, staring intently.  
This holds a strange weight, a private meaning, that bars Sam from the room as effectively as a locked door. It tells him this moment is theirs. That he doesn't belong there right now.  
And that's okay. Sam's wanted Dean to have something of this own for as long as he can remember and now he has. He should turn around and leave them to it. He should come back later.  
He doesn't.

There's something compelling about seeing his brother so quiet and open like this - Sam wants to see how it plays out. And besides, there is a practical reason to his voyeurism - if any of this results in negative fallout on Dean, Sam will be the one picking up the pieces. Best if he knows as much of the details as possible.

"I guess that's the problem," Dean responds and just when did _he_ become the cryptic one?

The knowing tilt of Cas' head suggests he understands though.

"You made your choice back there," he answers, still with that unwavering focus. "And I made mine. I don't regret it."

Silence fills up the room like a physical thing until Sam's holding his breath.

A sigh from Dean breaks the spell.

"Maybe I do..."

The flash of hurt that passes over Cas' face is so much worse than his earlier shows of pain. He lifts his hand from Dean's so it hovers, uncertain, in the few inches of air above.

"You find me... less pleasing now I am no longer an angel?" he asks, tentative.

Dean makes a low sound in the back of his throat, jerking his head violently from side to side before stopping to fix Cas with a glare.

"No, I don't find you less—" he breaks off, impatient and a little derisive. 'Pleasing' no doubt considered too lame for the Dean Winchester vocabulary. "It's not that. Of course I don't—It's just—" He bites his lip. Takes a breath. "You were an _angel_ , Cas. You were strong. Powerful. You had _wings_ , man. You had everything and—"

"I don't want everything," Cas interrupts, quiet but firm. "I want this..." He brings his hand back down and slowly interlocks his fingers with Dean's.

Cas doesn't take his eyes off Dean's face but Dean shifts his gaze down, following the movement. He doesn't reciprocate but he keeps his hand slack, allowing the gesture. After a moment the rise and fall of his chest starts to quicken, eyes glossing over with more of that remembrance Sam isn't privy to.

"Don't you?" Cas adds, leaning forward slightly, as though to examine Dean's expression in greater detail, eyes growing wider, full of hope.

Dean swallows twice before answering and when he does it's hushed, barely a whisper. Sam has to strain to hear, turning his head so his ear presses to the open crack of doorway.

" _Yeah..._ "

A warm, relaxed smile spreads over Cas' face and when Dean glances up at him Cas lifts an eyebrow.

"Well, then," he says and slowly, reluctantly, Dean is coaxed into smiling back.

They lean forward together and Sam quietly closes the door.

He just stands for a second, grinning like an idiot with a cold cup of coffee in his hands, savouring the rarity of the thing. This sudden, unlooked for, unexpected moment. A time in the midst of so much turmoil when every one of their patchwork family has found something they want, and got to keep it.

Like most things it can only be temporary, but it's wholly theirs while it lasts. Something to hold on to when things turn dark again so they'll know, no matter what, they were happy here. So they can remember that, just for a moment, there was peace.

 

~ **_fin_** ~


End file.
